LEG HALL LINGO

By Celia Cohen
Grapevine Political Writer

As the end of the legislative session approaches next
month, there is more and more talk about "Big Head," one
of those phrases indigenous to "Leg Hall" in Dover.
Insiders use the words without even thinking about them.

Anyone who thinks the first part of "Leg Hall" sounds
something like ledge is not an insider. (Anyone
who had to look up "indigenous" probably is.)

Here is a glossary to explain what the insiders are
talking about.

Basement. A dreaded destination. The basement
is the lowest of Leg Hall's three working floors, the place
where the House minority has its offices. The Republican
majority in the House of Representatives is terrified of
losing two seats or more in the November election and
becoming the minority caucus -- "going to the basement."

Big Head. An exclusive, unofficial council
where key legislative leaders meet privately with administration
officials to set the table for decisions on revenue and
spending. It is not a term of endearment. More like
sarcasm laced with envy.

Body Parts People. A collection of
organizations like the heart association, lung
association and cancer society that join forces to lobby
for health measures, such as the smoking ban. Their
selling point is their virtuousness, which is second
only to Mom and apple pie.

"Count the votes." Assembling the support to
reach a majority of 11 votes in the 21-member Senate or
21 votes in the 41-member House. It is a basic skill,
but harder than it sounds. Legislators whose bills fail
are likely to hear someone say, "Whassamatter? Didn't
they count the votes?" Lawmakers who do not count the
votes are regarded as negligent, lazy or gullible and
deserving of the scorn they get.

Desk drawer. The place where bills go to die
in the Senate. Committee chairs who are so opposed to
legislation that they will not even let it go to the
full Senate for consideration, no matter how many votes
there are for it, are said to lock it in their desk
drawer. The most legendary desk drawer belonged to
the late Jim Vaughn Sr., a former Marine, state trooper
and prison commissioner who could not be intimidated,
shamed, browbeaten or bamboozled into letting democracy
have its way.

Do a deal. I want something. You want
something. We trade. One of the most notorious of
all time was a constitution-for-asphalt deal in the
1970s by the late John Matushefske, a representative who
bartered his vote on a new state constitution for a bill
to have the state pay more money to asphalt contractors
who were his buddies. Matty's "no" vote helped to kill
the constitution, as his fellow wheeler-dealers intended. The
asphalt bill was vetoed, but Matty tried.

"Going upstairs." As in, "going
upstairs" to see the governor, who
has an office on the second floor at the top of the
sweeping double-staircase in the Leg Hall lobby. Some are summoned,
some want to do a deal or kill one, some go in
trepidation, some in fury, but they go -- even if they
go by elevator, instead.

"Just housekeeping." A housekeeping bill is a
minor measure, perhaps to clean up some language in the
law to conform with newly-enacted legislation. When a
lobbyist riffles a 125-page bill under a legislator's
gaze and says it is "just housekeeping," as the late
great Ned Davis once did, be suspicious.

Leg Hall. Legislative Hall, the center of
Delaware's political universe in Dover. Its shorthand
name is pronounced the way the Body Parts People would.

"Make your bones." Do your first deal. Do it
or be discounted.

Player. A term of admiration for Leg Hall
insiders with the nerves, wit, skills and timing to put
them in the center of action. No one does it better than
Nancy Cook, the senator who co-chairs the Joint Finance
Committee. For the federal government to do what she
does alone, it needs the CIA.

Sin lobby. The alcohol, gambling and tobacco
interests. As much as the Body Parts People get to wear
the white hats, they get the Snidely Whiplash black
mustache, although secretly legislators love them. Not
only are they a rich source of campaign contributions,
there is no easier avenue for state revenue than
legalizing and taxing bad habits.

"Thurman's office." When people say after the
day's session, "Let's go to Thurman's office," they
mean, "Let's get a drink." Thurman Adams, the Senate
president pro tem with a corner office on the first
floor, has the best location in Leg Hall and the
best-stocked bar.

Wired. When a bill is guaranteed to pass, no
matter how controversial it is, it is wired. Ever see
what happens to pay-and-pension packages for
legislators?

Your word. Keeping it is the gold standard of
legislating. People who can do a deal, count the votes
and keep their word are players.